The Twist
by Victoria Squalor
Summary: The redemption of a heartless pirate, as it would turn out, involved much more than forgiveness on Aurora's part. It also called for a great deal of patience, not to mention a very embarrassing lecture on family planning from Snow White. (Sequel to Pas de Deux; smutfic. Complete)
1. the rhythm of a stranger's skin

**A/N:** Oh hi it's another excuse to write Sleeping Hook porn. Part one of two.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own OUAT, but man, I really want that "Storybrooke After Dark" spinoff on Skinemax.

* * *

**The Twist**

by Victoria Squalor

* * *

_He holds a certain gesture when we're loving to ask each other  
Do you want it? Do you want me?  
_-Metric

* * *

"Now, I don't mean to pry, but are you two, uh…taking _precautions?_"

Snow's tone was every bit as sweetness and light as the sugar cubes currently dissolving in her cup of peppermint tea, though she was trying to keep it low enough so that it didn't carry over the wall to Killian. Aurora knew this was pointless; judging by the intermittent sloshing of bathwater, he was no doubt straining to hear every possible word, especially after the supreme ego stroke that was Snow's incredulous assessment of his malehood.

She _was_ having a difficult time walking; he'd plundered her insides so thoroughly that a throb of dull pain purled at her core whenever she bent over, or sat down, or did _anything; _but strangely enough, the pain was its own sort of pleasure. The deep ache rooted between her clasped-together thighs was synonymous with Killian's lustful eyes, the scrape of his stubble rubbing prickly rashes into her breasts, his teeth bared and breath panting as he drove deeper, as if he could never get deep enough—

Flames crept into her cheeks, and the spoon in her hand rang the teacup like the clapper of a bell, spattering amber droplets all over the table. "I—what—what do you mean?" she stammered as she dabbed the spill with a terry towel, although she knew fully well what Snow meant. She wasn't _that _green; she'd had those lessons from her governesses when she was Henry's age, although they'd relied so heavily on florid euphemisms that they'd lost all meaning. Women "flowered," they "ripened," they were "lush gardens" in need of "tender care," and _take care, young Princess_, they'd admonished, wagging their spindly fingers, _for the world is thick with scoundrels and blackguards who plant their seeds and do not tend to them_. _Scoundrels who will trample your garden underfoot._

This lecture had been deeply confusing to the young Princess Aurora, who had taken it rather literally and had been plagued with bizarre visions of bluebells and evening primroses sprouting from her skin, while sneering, dirty men in soiled cloaks trod upon her as she lay asleep in bed. It was only at her "flowering" at the age of twelve that she finally realized what that whole mess had _really_ been about.

Snow smiled, a patient mother's smile, and it occurred to Aurora that she'd never been granted the luxury of having this awkward conversation with her own daughter. "Things are a little different in this world than in ours, Aurora. A lot easier, for one. We don't have to visit the village herbalist for pessaries or pennyroyal tea. We can just take a pill, or wear a patch—" _Patch? _Aurora thought with a slight furrow of her brow. _That sounds like hedge witchery to me. _"—or, well, you'll still need to visit the doctor for that. But there are…other things you can do in the meantime."

"We…did," Aurora mumbled, the blaze beneath her skin continuing unabated at the memory of Killian drawing sticky doodles in the mess he'd made on her stomach. The only thing more unbelievable than the fact that she and the pirate had dipped the wick (and the fact that she had very much liked it) was the notion of sitting here _discussing _it over morning tea and biscuits. Snow was a princess herself, for heaven's sake, but evidently life in the mundane territories had stripped these royals of their propriety as well as their titles.

Of course, she herself had rather quickly and enthusiastically embraced the laws of this new land, and all its quirks of modern convenience: indoor plumbing, Scotch tape, music on compressed discs ("Most people have these things called MP3 players now, but it might be easier to start at the beginning," Snow had explained cheerily when she'd first brought over the record player). So, then, why not their relaxed manners and…highly _insouciant_ attitudes about sex?

Snow bit her lip in thought for a moment, then reached into her purse for a scrap of paper, scrawling something on it in red pen. "Here. Take this with you next time you go to the drugstore. You don't even have to ask for it. Just give it to the clerk, and they'll help you."

Aurora studied it with a thoughtful frown; she knew the letters, but the word made no sense. "This is supposed to…help us?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper after hearing the belch of the bathtub drain. "How?"

"Trust me." Snow drained the last of her cup. "You two have enough on your plate right now, between Gold, Regina, and trying to ingratiate him into society, without having to worry about _that _particular issue."

"Nobody's ingratiating anybody," Killian announced dryly as he strolled out of the washroom, now dressed in jeans and a red plaid button-down shirt of David's, that he clearly was unable to resist leaving unbuttoned just enough to allow a glimpse of his chest hair. Aurora couldn't suppress her smile. "I've no intention of prostrating myself before the smallfolk of Storybrooke to _make good._" He sneered the last words.

"Well, you don't really need to," Snow replied with a shrug and an uncharacteristically fiendish glint in her eye. "Given that most already know your heart is in Aurora's hands, coupled with the fact you're now staying here, they'll assume you've been magically transformed from merciless pirate into meek kept man."

Killian's mouth fell open, but only for a moment. Snow swiftly gathered up her purse and nodded to Aurora with a furtive wink. "I'd better get back to the family. Regina's coming over to see Henry, so we've all got to be on guard. I like that shirt on you, Killian," she added with a rogue grin as she hustled toward the door. "Merry Christmas!"

Aurora looked back at Killian, whose face was still a mask of incredulous protest, mouth ajar and scowling. "Did—did you _hear _that?" he sputtered as she crossed over to him, gently straightening the folds of his collar.

"You look…like a different man," she smiled up at him, purposely ignoring his outrage. His facial hair was the same as ever—she'd have to get him a razor while she was out on this mysterious errand of Snow's—but getting him out of that ancient salt-stained leather made a world of difference. Her fingertips danced across the fabric, soft and tissue-thin from wear, tracing circles over his chest. He was far too agitated to take notice.

"A kept man, it would seem," Killian sniffed.

"Killian—"

"What? Shall I go along with this farce and take my abuse with gentle good humor? I'm going to kill that bastard, and you'll have nothing to say about it." He started for the door, but Aurora tugged desperately at his arm, slowing his progress despite his much greater strength.

"Killian, _please. _You promised—"

"_Nothing. _ I promised _nothing, _Princess," he hissed, disentangling himself from her grip. "I never promised you I wouldn't. I might have, had you asked in the heat of passion, but you didn't. All you did was distract me."

Aurora stood perfectly still as his words washed over her, watching the rage in his own face falter as he observed her gaze. She knew that, of course. He had never promised her he wouldn't exact his revenge; he hadn't had the opportunity, for no sooner had she stoppered the flow of his anger by kissing him than he was kissing her back, rubbing against her, unbuttoning her dress. Spending his unquenched thirst for vengeance, his frustration at his present station in life, his humiliation before the town one thrust at a time between her thighs. And she'd allowed it, because she'd wanted it, though she would never have admitted it before. Wasn't that all it had been? _He could never love you, not when he's still clinging to the ghost of a woman dead for a few hundred years. _

She could never _change_ him. She'd been a fool to think she could, a _sweet, trusting fool, _as he'd said himself. She knew he was no Phillip, nowhere even close to her lost prince, but she'd thought…she'd thought _wrong_, that was all.

"Of course," she said softly, stepping back from him. "I understand."

_I can't change your nature, Killian Jones, but I'll not let you hurt anybody else, the way you hurt me._

Killian's expression was tempered with regret now, his hand reaching hesitantly toward her shoulder. "Aurora…" he began, and she had to bite back a bitter laugh.

"A distraction," she said, with a smile she did not feel, that she did not raise to his eyes. "Yes." And before he had a chance to react, she'd seized him by the waist of his jeans, deftly undoing the top button and easing down the zipper. He hissed in surprise as she jerked the denim down over his hips and ass and then, after them, the black cotton boxer briefs that held his swelling manhood in check. His shaft sprung free of its snug prison, standing at attention amidst the thick forest of coarse dark curls that feathered up his hipbones and trailed up his lower belly to his navel. Aurora traced one languid finger down that path until she reached his rigid phallus, gripping him around the base in a loose fist, then glanced up at him through her fluttering lashes.

Killian stared back, hot spots of color high on his cheekbones, nostrils rigid with the effort of breathing, chest heaving beneath his thin plaid shirt. A sound rose from his throat, a sound like dry leaves rasping against stone. "Aurora…" he gritted.

Aurora waited.

"_Please."_

She released him and turned her back, privately smirking at his loud groan of frustration as she faced the tea service. _Still warm_, she noted as she sipped slowly from her cup, but refrained from swallowing the minty brew. She had no idea where this notion had come from, other than the fact that last night she'd thought he tasted funny. Maybe this would help.

She faced him again, sparing only a moment's glance for his agonized face as she crouched and seized his cock again, carefully sucking the tip between her lips and engulfing the head in the contents of her mouth.

"Oh—_Gods!" _ His shocked cry resounded through the still kitchen, his hips quaking almost uncontrollably as Aurora finally swallowed the brew, her tastebuds tingling. He raked his fingers through her hair, tangling them in her warm maple-sugar waves and bucking into her hand as she sucked and pumped his cock. She licked slowly along the ridge where the head met the shaft, pressing the flat of her tongue along the underside of it, relishing his ardent moans.

She pulled away again and looked purposefully up at him. "Killian."

"Ohhh…I…_no," _he groaned, unable to articulate further.

"Killian." She rubbed her thumb over his slippery cock head, watching the pre-cum ooze out, cupping the slack sack of his balls in her other hand and gently squeezed. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head. "Promise me."

"I won't…" he panted, his face every bit that of a man in the throes of primal torture. "You can't…I won't…won't…" She kept squeezing. He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Promise me," she repeated, pausing only to lather the length of his cock with her tongue again, "that you won't kill _anyone_."

"I…you…" He hissed, cursed, bucked his hips to no avail. "Woman—if you mean to control me—take the bloody heart—"

Aurora sucked her thumb clean, released him, then sat calmly back on her heels and looked expectantly up at the suffering pirate, her smile a sharp and serene contrast to his agonized scowl. He reached for his cock, seeking to assuage his condition, but she slapped his hand away and seized his wrist instead.

"I don't want the bloody heart, I already told you that. I want your word_. _Surely it still means _something_. Now, Killian, will you promise me or not?"

Killian shook his head frantically, the blood burning bright beneath his skin, veins standing out in high relief on his forehead as his stiff dick bobbed uselessly in front of him. He sank his teeth into his lower lip over and over again, blood starting to well in the indentation. Aurora kept her face as masklike as possible.

"I…_fuck," _he hissed in quiet fury. "I…_God…_I _promise."_

"Promise what?" She couldn't resist, especially after all the nonsense she'd put up with from this man.

"I promise not to kill anyone," he ground out, looking as if he wanted to slit _her _throat, which was probably a fair assumption at this point.

Aurora beamed back at him. "That's all I wanted." And with that, she sucked him back into her mouth, seizing him more tightly around the base and earning a strangled cry in return. He thrust so hard that the tip hit the back of her throat and nearly made her gag; she pulled off him and began to work the shaft with her hands while suckling the head, flicking her tonguetip over the dribbling hole. It was only a few minutes more before he lost all control, coming with a deep groan and flooding her mouth with sticky seed. It didn't taste _bad, _she thought, wincing slightly as she swallowed, but she wasn't sure if she _liked _it, either.

Killian's face was glazed with sweat; he impatiently drew a sleeve across his brow to sop it up. "Well, my dear," he grunted sullenly, "I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"Quite." She wiped her lips daintily with one of the linen napkins on the table.

"That's quite a dirty trick, extracting a promise from a man when you're literally squeezing his balls in one hand." Oh, and now he was going to pout about it. Well, not for long. She had other things in mind for his big mouth.

"You're hardly one to whine about dirty tricks, pirate," Aurora sniffed as she pulled off her cashmere sweater and slipped out of her skirt, letting it pool around her ankles. "This was strategy."

She unfastened her pink satin brassiere and fired it at him like a slingshot. He stepped aside, but watched with obvious interest as she shimmied out of her matching panties.

"And what's this?" he inquired, eyes raking hungrily over her bare skin.

"I deserve a turn, don't you think?"

"So you get to win twice? That hardly seems fair." He reached out to caress her thigh, fingers halting over the red bite mark he'd left the prior evening, across a few pale blue bruises that marked where he'd gripped her a bit tightly. "Do they hurt?" he murmured, and Aurora wanted to laugh at his sudden concern.

"No more than the rest of me." She pointed toward the curtain. "On the bed with you, pirate. See if you can put your silver tongue to better use."

Killian managed to shuck off the shirt, mumbling about _bloody buttons_ as he made his way to the bedroom. Once he'd stretched out, head propped upon a pillow, she climbed astride him, straddling his face. He grinned wickedly up at her, his earlier sourness all but forgotten as his tonguetip flickered over her swollen little nub. Slowly, she lowered herself further onto his mouth until she felt the bristling of his beard against her wet cunt, then nearly shrieked from the sudden sensation. He lapped at her folds, tongue-fucking her as deep as he could go as she began to rock her hips back and forth. He tenderly sucked and gently nibbled her clit, and she had to grip the headboard again to keep steady.

Warm and wonderful as his tongue and teeth were, she somehow knew it wouldn't be enough this time. She wasn't ready for that massive cock again just yet, but she needed to be stroked deeper than this. Lifting her hips off his face, she guided his fingers toward her mound; he took her meaning at once and began to pump and twist them inside her, making her moan with delight as he pressed hard on that elusive sweet spot, still nipping at her clit.

Aurora gasped and tightened and clenched and gushed warmth around his fingers, heaving a great shuddering sigh as she rode the wave til its end. She draped herself across his chest, pawing the thick hair as she kissed his collarbone. Killian pressed a kiss to the top of her head; his beard faintly glistened with her wetness.

"What was on that paper she gave you?" he murmured, trying to sound disinterested.

"Something that's supposed to help us." She slowly traced a line between two tiny moles on his left shoulder.

"Help us, really?"

"Not have babies." She knew he wasn't keen on the subject. She knew it would be a long time before she was ready to be a mother herself, and she struggled to imagine what sort of father Killian might possibly make, but she'd already found herself indulging more than once in daydreams of what their children would look like, even before she'd gone to bed with him. Another thing she'd sooner die than admit to him; the man was plenty intolerable enough about his own handsomeness as it was. "I'm supposed to get it at the store. Will you come with me?"

Killian snorted and rolled over on his side. "No, thank you. I'll stay here like a good kept man and avoid the curious stares of the proletariat."

"So, we're back to that again?" she sighed. Who needed children, when Killian scarcely acted a day over twelve? "I thought we'd—"

"Moved past it? No, once again, you distracted me with sex. And then sneakily extracted a promise while squeezing my main mast in your hand. To be honest, I'm a bit miffed about that. I _would _be furious, if I wasn't so satisfied at the moment." He stretched his arms out to the sides and yawned. "I suppose you'll just have to keep up the distractions, if you expect to keep me subdued."

"Most mature. I should have let you freeze to death, you vile blackguard." Aurora slid off the bed and shunted the curtain aside, collecting her clothes from the floor.

"Now who's being mature?" Killian smirked at her from the pillow. "By the way, darling, you look terribly pained when you bend over like that. Might want to pick up something for that, too."

This time, the brassiere hit him square in the eye.


	2. how to leave the boy behind

**A/N:** This was supposed to be "plot, what plot?" and then it took 4200 words just to get their clothes off. Argh. That's a Pogues song playing in the latter half, not that anyone cares.

* * *

While an insufferably smug and spent Killian burrowed under the quilts and headed back to sleep, Aurora bundled herself into her coat, hat and furry-trimmed boots and headed out back into the snow. It had stopped falling some time ago, and the sun glinted from behind the swollen grey clouds, but there was a thick layer of slush in the road, and the sidewalks were slippery with ice. The town was predictably quiet, almost dead silent save a few stragglers dressed in a mishmash of winter parkas and printed pajama pants, almost all of them headed to the same place as Aurora: the Dark Star Pharmacy.

The tiny store had been her first real experience in Storybrooke, as Snow and Emma had taken her and Mulan there the first night for the immediate bare necessities: a toothbrush, a gunky stick of deodorant and a pack of what Emma disparagingly termed "granny panties" ("Yeah, they suck, but they'll do 'til you can hit up a Vicki's Secret"). She'd ended up going back to linger longer over the next few days, in awe of the vast array of items, despite having no money at the time for any of them: brightly wrapped bars of chocolate, key rings that shot out points of bright red light when you pressed a button, and a whole wall of glossy magazines, on subjects that varied from cats to clothing to cooking. It was a vast wealth of information, yet the people of this world had no interest in retaining it, it seemed; when they were done with them, they simply tossed them in the garbage, which seemed like a terrible waste to Aurora.

Snow had laughed when she'd walked into the drugstore one day to find her pursing her lips at the pages of _Vogue, _marveling over how anybody could possibly walk in ten-inch high heels shaped like lobster claws. "You don't have to stand here all day just to read," she'd said, and had shown up at her room that evening with an armful of dog-eared editions of _National Geographic _and _Popular Science. _"Forget the fashion magazines, _this _is where you need to start learning about our world."

Aurora had looked between her and the magazines, confused. "You don't want them anymore?"

"I use them in school, but we get new ones in every month. Besides, most of this stuff is online now, anyway—but, uh, I think that's a little advanced for you at this stage, too. Don't worry. Once Belle gets the library up and running, you'll be set."

She'd only made a small dent in the pile of reading material thus far, but she'd taken a particular interest in the beautiful photographs of other corners of this new world: the waterways of Venice, gilded temples in Thailand, Tahiti's white sand beaches—all of it such a far cry from chilly, provincial Storybrooke that she couldn't believe nobody in town had ever seen any of them up close.

But, as she'd later learned, there were magical complications that prevented just such a thing, and that Mr. Clark, who ran the pharmacy, was in fact suffering the side effects. Snow had explained that he was really a dwarf named Sneezy, but the moment he'd stepped over the town line, he'd reverted to his cursed self and forgotten his true identity all over again. Aurora was, perhaps, a little kinder to him for this reason, even when he'd expelled droplets of phlegm all over her box of laundry soap.

Today, he paused to give her a small wave, otherwise engrossed in a discussion about batteries with a small boy clutching a remote-controlled toy. Aurora smiled back and crossed over to the magazine rack, figuring she'd occupy herself there until she could show him Snow's note.

A copy of something called _Cosmopolitan _caught her eye—or rather, the words blazing in bright pink letters across the cover. _Hottest Sex Ever: How To Thrill His Body and Blow His Mind With Our Proven Tricks! _She glanced furtively up and down the aisle, then reached for it.

"I wouldn't bother, that stuff is pretty tame."

Aurora dropped the magazine in shock at the sudden interjection from Ruby Lucas, who stooped to pick it up, garnet-glossed mouth grinning broadly. "Sorry if I scared you," she apologized, setting it back on the shelf before flicking the end of her scarf over one shoulder. "It's just that I've amassed a huge collection of those over the years, and, well, it's all basically the same fifty shades of vanilla recycled over and over again. Save your five bucks."

"Oh, I wasn't going to—" Aurora hesitated, then figured Ruby would probably be even more useful in deciphering Snow's code than the druggist would. "I'm actually here for this." She extracted the slip of paper from her coat pocket.

Ruby pinched it between her gloved fingers, eyes darting back and forth between it and Aurora, her lips parting as if to speak several times, but the words wouldn't quite come. When they finally did, her voice had dropped to a loud whisper. "Um…out of curiosity…who would this be required for?"

"Me." Aurora was getting tired of the constant dancing around this subject.

"You and who else? It wouldn't happen to be, uh…a certain leather-clad gentleman—and I use the word loosely—who's short an appendage?"

Aurora looked at the floor and sighed. Ruby let out a little crow of delight, which she quickly stifled.

"I _knew _it! I just _knew_ he had to be packing one impressive cannon in those tight pants…_not_ that this changes my opinion of him, you know. I still think he's a dick after all the crap he pulled with you guys—you especially. But if _you_ can forgive him, well, I guess I can do the same." She leaned in closer. "Just between us…how _is _he?"

Aurora felt completely lost at this point. "Ruby…I don't even know what this _is,_" she insisted, taking the paper back, "other than some sort of pregnancy prevention device. Snow told me to get it."

Ruby snorted. "Snow should've sent you to me first. She's my best friend, but, well, let's face it, she's been in that Catholic school so long that she's gotten kind of…_prim_ about the subject. Whereas I have no problem telling it like it is. Hey, Tom," she called over to Mr. Clark, who'd just waved goodbye to the battery boy, "hit me up with some Magnum XLs, will you?"

Mr. Clark raised his eyebrows, but retrieved a small black cardboard box from the shelf behind the counter. "That must be quite a Christmas party you're throwing, Ruby."

Ruby gave him a quick flash of her teeth. "Don't I always, though? Aren't you coming?"

"Sorry, you'll have to count me out. My store's the only game in town on Christmas Day. Save me some of your granny's famous hot buttered rum, though—I know Leroy will drink the rest of it."

"If Granny doesn't beat him to it. She started at nine this morning." Ruby picked up the box and tossed it to Aurora, who examined the fine print closely. "Now, I don't love these, for a multitude of reasons, that I'll not discuss here," she explained, voice shrinking to a hush once more, "but yes, they have several distinct advantages over other methods. They don't make you swell up like a balloon or go on a homicidal rampage. Honestly, the only difference between the pill and wolf's time is that the first one tends to cause breakouts. Now, I prefer—_uhhhh_, why don't we finish this conversation," she faltered, glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Clark, "back at the B&B? Granny's probably passed out in her Barcalounger, and I have a few things to finish up for the party…uh, unless you need to be getting back to the Captain, of course."

Smiling now, Aurora shook her head. "He's…asleep."

Ruby waggled her eyebrows meaningfully and smiled back. "Good. There's this really cool book I want to show you."

* * *

Aurora ended up staying at the Lucases' much longer than she'd intended—several hours longer, in fact. Ruby had poured them both multiple mugs of the buttered rum while they perused her copy of _The Modern Kama Sutra,_ which had been quite an eye-opener. She hadn't realized there were so many different positions, let alone that they all sported names like "Sesamum Seed with Rice" or "The Twining of a Creeper," or that most of them looked distinctly uncomfortable. Killian was probably familiar with all of them and more, having been around for three centuries, but in their limited time together he hadn't seemed to be too particular about how their bodies were arranged, as long as his cock was being satisfied in one way or another.

Once they'd finished with that, the partygoers had started filtering into the dining room—mostly dwarves, nuns, and the rest of Storybrooke's lonely hearts who didn't otherwise have families to occupy them on the holiday. For that reason, probably, there was a clump of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling, which despite everyone's best efforts to avoid kept claiming victims: Ruby kissed Archie, causing him to blush to the roots of his hair, and Dr. Whale would've planted one on Sister Astrid had Leroy not tackled him to the floor first, breaking several wine glasses in the process.

Mulan had been there too, without her new paramour ("He works part time at the Emperor's Palace, and he says they're always open on Christmas"), standing in the corner and looking faintly bemused at the festivities before her. Aurora had hemmed and hawed, knowing she'd have to confess to her friend and former protector that she'd invited the very pirate who'd caused them so much grief into her home _and _her bed, but not knowing _how_, when Mulan saved her the trouble.

"You _will _tell me if he does anything…uncouth. Although being more uncouth than he already _has_ been up to this point would be quite an impressive feat."

Aurora had looked up in shock from her mug. "Do you mean Killian?"

"Oh, so he's Killian already? That was quick indeed." The warrior's tone was as as deadpan as her expression.

Aurora didn't bother to ask how she knew; better just to assume everybody knew at this point. "You don't approve."

"Of course I don't approve. But there's little I can do about it. You have to live your own life, just as I do mine." She folded her arms, her gaze distant as she watched Leroy sulkily pick shards of glass out of the carpet, and Aurora knew she was thinking of Phillip. She never articulated the feeling, for she knew her friend wouldn't care for it, but she privately pitied Mulan; she'd been destined to lose Phillip either way, whether to a wraith or to Aurora herself, had he lived. Although, if he walked into the room now…would Aurora still have run to him?

_Of course you would. You don't love him any less just because he's gone and Killian's in your bed. _But she knew the reality of her feelings were a rather more complex scenario. _There's no point in wondering, anyway. He's gone, and we both have to move on._

"Just know," Mulan continued, "that I have absolutely no qualms about removing his manhood with my sword, should he harm you in any way."

Aurora smiled at that, thinking of the pleasant soreness between her legs. "Understood."

When she finally begged off the party, Ruby wouldn't let her go until she'd loaded her up with several foil-wrapped plates worth of leftovers and a few of her old _Cosmos_ in a shopping bag ("The quizzes are fun, if you get bored.") The sky was already darkening outside as she ambled down the slick sidewalk at half her normal pace, admiring the soft red glow of the tasseled lanterns in the window of the Emperor's Palace, when the restaurant's front door banged open and nearly clipped her in the face, drawing a startled cry from her lungs.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that, dearie."

Mr. Gold, or Rumpelstiltskin, or "that gold bastard" as Killian was so fond of referring to him, paused before her on the sidewalk, balancing himself with the cane in one hand and carrying a takeout bag with the other. Aurora only stared at him, feeling slightly stunned; she hadn't seen him since he'd sent her off with Killian's heart in a box. Which she'd offered back to him. What if he _knew? _He seemed to know everything else that went on in this town.

"Come from Granny's, I take it?" he inquired politely, as Aurora was making no attempt to speak; she nodded dumbly in assent. "I'm just picking up some soup for Belle," he added, holding up the bag. "She's feeling a little under the weather today."

"Please tell her I wish her well."

"Certainly, Your Highness." There was an almost imperceptible trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Do give my same regards to the Captain."

A cold prickle slid down the back of Aurora's neck that had absolutely nothing to do with the icicles dripping from the restaurant's overhang. "I-I will," she mumbled.

"And I hope you're taking special care of my gift to you," Gold went on. His eyes reflected the red lanterns in the window, giving them an oddly sinister glow. "I…would _hate_ for you to make me regret making that decision."

Aurora gave a slow nod, though something other than disquiet was churning in her mind at this comment. "Of course. I—I mean, you won't, Mr. Gold, I assure you." Her voice wobbled slightly on the last syllable, and before she had a chance to catch it, the paper shopping bag slipped from her grip and tumbled to the ground. The box of condoms rolled out onto the ice, and she ducked to fetch it, though not before he'd caught a glimpse of it.

"Well, I see you're putting him to good use." She blushed furiously as she straightened up, and he smirked. "Ah, I'll be on my way now, then, soup's getting cold. Merry Christmas, Princess."

Too mortified to respond, Aurora watched him slowly retreat down the sidewalk, then hurried the rest of the way back to the apartment, nearly skidding into the gutter twice.

She could hear the music out in the hallway as she unlocked the door; a sprightly if discordant tune with lyrics that sounded slurred. _Did you keep a watch for a dead man's wind? Did you see the woman with the comb in her hand? _ The apartment was dark inside save for the kitchen light; the sitting room was obscured by shadow, and in the middle of it on the floor sat Killian, staring ahead at nothing at all, a nearly empty bottle of MacCutcheon's whiskey on the floor beside him. _Where did he get that? _she wondered, then saw the box Snow had brought over earlier on the table, its wrapping shredded. There was no sound aside from the music and the faint hiss of vinyl.

"Killian?" she ventured softly, setting the bag down on the counter.

He didn't turn his head, nor did he speak for a very long moment to follow. When he finally did, his voice was a thick rasp. "Singapore," he said.

"What?"

"Singapore," he repeated, his eyes fugitive in the darkness. "Have you heard of it?"

What was he _talking_ about? "No."

"Nor had I, until today." He gestured listlessly to the chaise behind him, and she finally noticed the copies of _National Geographic _scattered across it. "It's a little island nation. Busiest port in the world. Warm and tropical. A clash of cultures, good food and drink." He laughed suddenly, then coughed. "Bit uptight about crime, it seems, but then I've never balked at a challenge before."

She'd never seen him this drunk before. "Wh—Killian, _what_—"

"Let's go there," he said. "You and me."

Aurora finally pulled off her hat and hung it on the peg, not knowing what else to do with herself. "I—how?"

"Sail, of course." He ambled to his feet, swaying a bit with the effort. "I can steal a boat, as long as the sheriff doesn't catch wind of it first. We'll have to take the long route, since we happen to be on the wrong ocean, but that's all right. Plenty to see on the way there."

"Killian…" His eyes were dull, lustreless in the gloom, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath from several paces away. "You're drunk."

"No, _listen _to me," he demanded, grasping her wrist. "I can't stayhere. I don't want to be _kept. _ I don't belong here. You don't either. You can't seriously be content to take root in this…rustic _boghole. _You're a princess, you really want to do what the simple folk do?"

She backed away, disentangling himself from his fingers; they left white marks behind on her flesh. "I—I am not a princess anymore."

"You spent thirty years gathering dust on a marble slab, and this…_this _is enough for you? This little box you've set yourself up to die in?" He reached toward her again, and she flinched, but this time his hand only made a passing stroke of her cheek, fingers sifting through the hair tucked behind her ear. His voice was as unsteady as his touch. "You've…you've never _lived, _Princess. You've never looked out over the ocean, straining your eyes, waiting for that flush line of horizon to turn craggy, urging your ship on faster because you can't wait to see what's there. You've never seen the night sky out at sea. It's the purest sky there is, no man-made fire to spoil it. Your eyes can't even take it in all at once." It was starting to crack now, and Aurora feared he might start to cry. "Clusters of stars too thick to count, a million pinpoints of light floating on this…gossamer veil that stretches all the way across. And even though you're just a speck in the darkness, you feel like the very center of the galaxy. The first time Milah—" He stopped himself there, and even in the poor light she saw something wobble in his eye. "I want to show it to you," he said at last, the muscles working hard in his throat. "Why would that be so terrible?"

She reached out to him then, caressed his temples, caught his face in her hands. "Why are you saying all this?"

Killian shook his head, swallowing again. "Because…if I see him on the street, there's going to be nothing to stop me from trying to rip him a new gullet. Even if it be with my bare hands."

Her heart plummeted. "Even though you promised." Of course it had been a hollow oath; it had been the only thing standing between him and orgasmic bliss.

"We both know I can't keep that promise. Especially not now." His features were twisted and anguished. "Especially not…_you."_

"Not me?" she echoed in a quiet huff.

"You…you…" he struggled visibly with the words, adrift in the boozy fog of his mind. "You're under my skin now. Making me itch. And he'll know. He'll strike at you soon as he gets the chance." She thought of the red glow in Gold's eyes, the way his words had slithered down her spine. "There's no good way for this to end, Aurora. There can be no peace between me and Rumpelstiltskin." He pressed his hand to her shoulder, steadying himself as he expelled a strong breath. "If you're not willing to take my heart in hand and make me your slave, then I will kill him or die trying. Unless…we _leave _this place."

Aurora couldn't respond right away, letting the lull fill itself with the sound of fiddles still coming from the record player, the weight of his words heavy in the interim. "And what about what I want?" she asked softly.

"What _do_ you want?"

"I want..." _I want home,_ was her first thought. The hot, bone-dry winds that rustled her curtains at night and stirred up the cloud of smoky-sweet sandalwood incense lit beside her bed. The glittering mosaic sunbursts radiating from the cool tile floors of her palace. Golden platters of dried figs and stuffed grape leaves. Her mother's smile, her father's laugh, Phillip's kiss.

But all of those things were gone now, irretrievable relics of the past, and so, she wanted a _new_ home, in this new world. A cozy space all her own to curl up with a mug of wine and listen to music and read, girlfriends with whom she could giggle and gossip, this darkly handsome man in front of her with his piercing blue eyes who'd throw her on the bed and love her until her body was numb with pleasure—and someday, she wanted babies with those same blue eyes, too.

Only Killian didn't want any part of that.

Would another adventure be so awful? Granted, the last one they'd partaken of had ended on a sour note, but now that he wasn't working in tandem with a vile sorceress, and he seemed to like her…and the travel amenities were guaranteed to be better this time, at least.

_I want everything, _she thought, _but I can't have everything. _It was Storybrooke or Killian, and she had no intention of caging him just so she could claim both.

"I want…" she started again, but her words dissolved into a sigh. "I want a place to feel safe."

"Safe," Killian repeated, and gently drew his thumb down the center of her lower lip. "You don't have to settle for this life to feel safe," he whispered. "I can be your safe harbor."

Aurora stared back at him, considering those words, and all the rest of his words, too. His empty promises, his lies back in the cave, back at the camp. They'd called that a safe haven, too, and he'd been part of the reason it had ended up littered with dead bodies. And then she thought of Gold, and his generosity, and his mention of regret.

She jerked free of his touch, and wordlessly, headed toward the chest of drawers in her bedroom, where the lacquered box sat nestled amongst her underthings. She'd given it to him, in a gesture of faith, and he'd given it right back. It was hers now, to do with as she wished.

The heart pulsed audibly in her palm, its soft glow filling the dark room. The crimson fires it lit in Killian's eyes were much the same as those that had blazed in Gold's, except these were filled with a slow dawning horror.

"So," he said at last, his voice suddenly sober and lifeless. "That's it. That's your choice."

Aurora said nothing, only held the heart aloft and his gaze along with it.

"Well, then." He managed a resigned smile, the muscles in his face twitching slightly. "Good-bye, Aurora." He made no motion at all to stop her, nor to move from where he stood, only wincing as she tightened her hold on the organ, just enough so it wouldn't slip her fingers.

She took a deep breath and pushed it back into his chest, both cloth and flesh giving way as easily as sand as the glow disappeared beneath his skin.

Killian's eyes and mouth went wide with shock, body wracked with violent convulsions, arms flailing helplessly toward her as he plummeted hard toward the floor, hitting it with a smack that seemed to shake the room. He gasped for air like a fish out of water, coughing, sucking in huge, ragged breaths. Aurora knelt beside him, cradling his head in her lap, smoothing his hair as he panted, staring uncomprehendingly up at her. "You…you…you…" he breathed in stuttering gasps.

"Me, me, me," Aurora repeated, smiling.

"I thought you would…I thought…" His eyes were glistening again as his fingers reached up to trace her cheek once more.

"Crush it? Or enslave you? Because I have such a well-established tradition of tyranny, I suppose." She shook her head with a soft _tsk _of motherly disapproval. "You just _don't_ learn, Killian Jones."

"But…how did you know that would work?"

"I didn't. I took a chance. Something Gold said—"

Killian's brows drew together at once, dark and threatening. "He _talked _to you? When?"

"On the way home—calm _down, _you're not going anywhere." He'd started to thrash in her arms as if intending to leap to his feet, and she pushed him back to the floor. "At any rate, it opened my mind to the possibility. I'd only thought mine had to be put back with magic, because it took magic to pull it out."

Killian glanced down at his stump again.

"But…why?" he insisted, voice softening. "After all…all that?"

"Because, stupid pirate…" Now she was the one fighting for words, even though the effects of the rum had worn off long ago. She chose to borrow Mulan's instead. "You have to live your own life, just as I do mine." She couldn't hold him by the balls—figuratively or literally—forever. It was a kind of slavery, same as when he and Cora had been leading her around by the heart. As badly as she wanted to be his conscience, his reason to follow good over evil, it was nothing she could impose upon him—he had to want it for himself. There was nothing to tie him to her now, no reason for him to stay other than his own desire.

He just stared back at her for the longest time, to the point where she was half convinced she'd just spoken in tongues.

"I love you," he said at last, the words barely above a whisper.

She didn't know if those words were due to the infusion of bad rotgut whiskey or the heart transplant, or both, but it didn't much matter. "I know."

He seized her by the lapel of her coat, which she'd already been sweating buckets in, and pulled her down atop him, lame arm wrapped tightly around her back and hand guiding the back of her head as he seized her mouth in a rough, hot, whiskey-tinged kiss, his tongue plundering deeply. She hummed back contentedly, flicking her own tongue along the rows of his teeth. The alcohol tasted terrible but she didn't care; if anything, it aroused her _more, _and he was such a contradiction of smells—male musk and sweat and her bath oil and whatever laundry soap Snow had used to wash the clothes. Too clean to be one of the scoundrels she'd been told to be wary of; too dirty to be a respectable man. She managed to work open the buttons of his shirt as they kissed, pushing the soft plaid cloth away and exposing his chest. He couldn't have been cold, what with the radiator on and the sour mash in his blood, but his nipples already stood out in erect peaks. Aurora rubbed slow circles into them, finally breaking away from their heated kiss to catch one between her teeth and earned an appreciative gasp from Killian.

She stopped long enough to shed her sweltering coat and the rest of her heavy winter layers, until she was stripped down to her pink brassiere and panties, and the thigh-high woolen socks with woven patterns of snowflakes and hearts that she'd opted for instead of the thin silk stockings. Killian watched her undress with a lazy yet predatory yearning in his eyes, hand idly rubbing his mounting bulge through the thin denim of his jeans. Perhaps it was the lighting, but his skin seemed blindingly pale against the pitchy, coarse hair covering his chest, which she couldn't seem to stop caressing. Aurora massaged her way down his torso, planting feather-soft kisses down his hard belly, dipping her tongue into his navel, nuzzling and licking the furry trail below it, her fingertips dancing lightly up and down his sides. She fumbled with the cold button of his jeans in her earnestness, easing down the zipper and peeling them all the way off his legs.

She pressed her cheek to the hot, hard swelling of his cock beneath his tight cotton boxer briefs, breathing in the musky scent of male arousal before lightly covering it with her open mouth. Killian groaned deeply and arched his hips upward, reaching down to tangle his fingers in her hair as she tugged off the briefs, freeing his cock at last. Throbbing heat sheathed in velvet-soft skin, that slid back to reveal a plump pink head slick with salty pre-cum. She took him in hand for only a moment, giving him a gentle squeeze long enough to watch him shiver.

If only her old governesses could see her now, she thought. They'd warned her about wanton women too, the sort that _did _consort with scoundrels and blackguards. _Women of loose moral fiber_, they'd called them. They'd said nothing at all about how wonderful it felt, nor the sense of power that filled her when she drew those desperate sounds from his throat, watching him squirm and pant and beg as he teetered on the edge of a climax.

He'd spread his legs to allow her to slide between them, clearly expecting her to settle in for a long leisurely suck, but she ignored his penis completely and began to kiss and nuzzle his inner thighs instead. He growled loudly in protest, and she giggled against his skin.

"What are you _doing_ down there?" he snarled.

She responded with a firm swipe of her tongue down the center of his balls, turning his protests to incoherence; she sucked that loose sack of skin into her mouth, massaging the sensitive spot behind them, and the complimentary moans grew even louder.

"Oh, fuck_. _'Rora. _Fuck._" She found she rather liked that nickname. Nobody had gifted her with a pet name before, not even Phillip, and the obscenities that flanked it only caused more desire to pool in the crotch of her now stifling panties, which were summarily discarded.

Remembering one of the pictures from Ruby's book, Aurora decided to change tactics a bit and shifted her body opposite Killian's, straddling his chest and stretching out over his torso, granting him a very generous view of her ass and fairly dripping cunt. She grasped his cock again, drawing her thumb up and down his sliding sheath before swallowing the head, humming as she swirled her tongue along the ridge. His breath was hot and gusting on her wet folds; she felt something, his fingers, gently probe between them, sliding up and down with ease through the gathering moisture, only to be quite abruptly replaced with the shocking bristle of his beard, rubbing that tender flesh raw, and the warm and talented flicking of his tongue. Aurora moaned, cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pop as she pushed back against his face.

"Like that?" he murmured against her clit, the vibration almost too good to bear.

"_Ohhh_—" She rotated her hips slowly as his tonguetip drew patterns on the inside of her vulva, not wanting to concentrate on anything but the sweet sensation of stubble and slick muscle invading the most vulnerable part of her body, but when he bucked his own hips upward, she was reminded that he needed it just as much as she did. She gripped him tightly at the base and worked the shaft slowly, easing the friction with what the eager tip was leaking out, then wrapping her lips around the head to suckle the rest.

As much as she was enjoying this mutual servicing, though, she wanted more, much more, and she wanted it now. "Killian?" she murmured against his flushed shaft.

"Hmmmm?" he responded, the sound muffled by her walls.

"Will you fuck me now?" She'd never uttered the word before, and hearing it in her own voice gave her a tiny thrill. It was such a coarse oath, a word reserved for pirates and the wanton women who loved them, not princesses who deemed themselves too refined for such language.

"Thought you'd never ask." He slapped her hard on the bottom as she backed off him; no sooner had she uprighted herself than he grabbed her roughly and rolled her back onto the floor, knees astride hers, regarding her as a ravenous beast would its supine prey. "You're about to get fucked senseless, Highness."

But as he dropped his mouth to her neck, Aurora remembered something, and pushed him off, provoking an offended sputter. "Wha—"

"Just a minute. I have to get something." She scrambled toward the kitchen and the bag on the counter. Killian sat back on his heels, looking perturbed, until she returned with the box and handed it to him. He squinted at the lettering, cocking one dark brow.

"_This?_ This is what Snow was banging on about? God's sake, from what I've heard about her stint as town harlot you'd think she'd be able to say the words out loud." He snorted derisively as he ripped the box open. "At least she got enough of a peek at me to get the 'extra large' part right."

"You've used those before?"

Killian tore open one of the gold foil packets and examined its contents. "Well, back in our world they were somewhat more crude, but yes. Usually fashioned from a bit of sheep's intestine. Never could stand the things, but better that than catching the pox from some tavern wench who might've hosted an entire armada between her legs." He sighed, sounding rather defeated. "You're…certain about this?"

"Yes." Aurora forced herself to push those silly dreams of dark-haired, blue-eyed babies out of her mind, much as it hurt to do so. She didn't want to end up pregnant and alone in Storybrooke. As he'd said, the sea was no place for a child, and while he might have been hot-tempered and possessive about things he considered his, neither was he the paternal sort.

Killian rolled it on with minimal grumbling, annoyance forgotten once she'd wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down into another heated kiss. He unhooked her bra as he sucked on her tongue, rubbing his big, callused palms against the soft, jiggling mounds of pale flesh, her nipples already achingly hard. "Bed, then?" he murmured around her mouth.

She broke away and walked toward the kitchen instead, pausing by the chair that held the folded pile of his pirate garb to retrieve something from it, before easing herself up onto the countertop. Just because she'd restored him to full autonomy didn't mean she was going to let him direct all the action.

He regarded her with that same skeptical eyebrow, the one that always looked as if it were permanently askew. "Here? On the drainboard? Not that I haven't done it before, but it hardly seems befitting of a princess."

"Killian…how many times do I have to tell you," she sighed, holding up his discarded belt with its ornate silver buckle and looping it around his shoulders before he had a chance to react, "I'm not a princess anymore?" Grasping the ends of the belt tightly, she pulled herself flush against him, his chest hair prickling her breasts, rock-hard upright cock nestled between the slick folds of her cunt, mouth against his chin. "And we're not dancing tonight, either," she breathed against his jaw.

His pupils were dilated wider than she'd ever seen them, his skin flushed red, exhaling in slow, controlled breaths that made his whole body heave. She allowed him just enough slack to pull away and ease the head of his penis into place, his eyes never leaving hers. She lowered the belt to his waist, tightened her grip , and jerked sharply as she could, crying out in pain and relief and joy as he filled her at last.

Killian pushed her legs up over his forearms and began to pump furiously, eyes still locked with Aurora's, breathing through stiff nostrils, his forehead perhaps an inch or two from hers each time he thrust and she pulled. Aurora's heart felt as if it were hurling itself against her ribcage with brutal force. She'd never felt so simultaneously turned on and terrified and…close. Falling into those lucid blue orbs while he pounded away with his cock, her swollen labia clinging to him each time he pulled out—it was almost as if they were one body then, twins joined at the eyes and loins. She'd felt something like it the night before, when he'd first pushed inside her, but she'd been so caught up in the newness of every sensation and in the sense of disbelief that, yes, this was _Hook _of all people giving her such immense pleasure, that she hadn't dwelled on it much.

"Oh, fuck, _fuck_, 'Rora, _yes,_" he panted with each thrust, as she just mewled and gasped his name over and over. "Fuck…so _tight_…mmm…my hot, tight little princess…all _mine_…"

She kept yanking the ends of the belt, pulling him closer and closer as she bucked her hips back against his, physically pained by the thought that he might stop, that he might pull out, that this would come to an end and she'd never feel this wonderful ever again. She couldn't imagine any other man coming close to this. Singeing her nerves and setting her body on fire the way he did, making her feel so deliciously wicked, so in control, so _free._

"_Ohh—_" he groaned, and grasped her tight at the waist, grinding his pelvis harder against hers, his pulsing cock twitching deep inside her as he came. Aurora dropped the belt and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the slight marks the leather had left in his skin. She kissed the thin scar on his cheek as he moved to lazily rub her clit, still hilted inside her, still holding her gaze.

She was already close from all that extra friction, and it wasn't long before she was shuddering and whimpering, coming undone around his slow and expert fingers. Only then did he ease out his softened cock, peeling off the condom with a look of obvious distaste, and clasped a still-trembling Aurora to his chest. She rested her head on Killian's shoulder, stroking his back and feeling his pulse hammer through his skin.

"Come on, Princess," he mumbled, scooping her into his arms again, leaving a wet slick behind on the countertop as he carried her to bed. She hadn't the energy to correct him once more. He was more tender with her this time, pulling up the quilts around them both, smoothing her damp hair, entwining her legs with his. She lay there against him, head nestled beneath his chin, listening to his heartbeat gradually slow as he idly stroked the small of her back. _I'm happy now, _she thought sleepily, eyelids drifting shut. If he chose to leave her tomorrow, if she woke up to find herself alone in bed while Emma Swan banged on the door demanding to know where that sonofabitch pirate who'd just committed maritime theft was, she was happy _now. _

But maybe, just maybe, he'd choose to stay. Or maybe she'd leave with him. Just for a little while. She wasn't sure if she could handle months on a ship, but she was most interested in trying out one of those huge passenger jets that she sometimes saw high in the sky at night, blinking lights like a shooting star coasting at half-speed. Those had people to wait on you and pour you drinks. If Killian thought she'd willingly consent to being his first mate, she mused as she began to drift off, he had another think coming.

"So," Killian said at last. "Singapore, then?"


End file.
